


Happenstance

by allyndra



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Don't Ask Don't Tell, Fabulous Ladies Night Club, M/M, Set in and around Season 4, pretty darned fluffy, the Initiative guys as not-jerks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-30
Updated: 2007-01-30
Packaged: 2019-07-07 00:52:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15897561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyndra/pseuds/allyndra
Summary: Pre-season 4, Riley takes a trip to Oxnard with his friends. The after effects linger.





	1. Once is Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Posted to LJ in 2007, added to AO3 in September 2018 (backdated)

Graham admitted to Riley that when he came out to his friends, he'd half expected them to react with anger, confusion, or disgust. What he got was a level of unflinching support that made him walk around with an unaccustomed grin on his face for days. As Forrest said, "I won't abandon you under fire. What makes you think I'd drop you just because you want to leave more hotties for me?" Riley had nodded his agreement.

Forrest and Riley worked hard to be both supportive and subtle. This meant all teasing about sex and crushes was done in low voices in their rooms, they were careful never to giggle at Graham in the showers, and the 'coming out' party had to happen out of town. Way out of town. After some surreptitious internet searching, Riley found a town a few hours away that looked perfect. Oxnard was not a popular leave destination, so it was unlikely that they'd run into any fellow soldiers. It was close enough they could make it an easy weekend trip, yet far enough that they shouldn't see students from the classes they assisted with. And, most importantly, it possessed a strip club with male strippers.

Everything went according to plan, and less than three weeks after Graham had made his announcement, the three friends were on their way to Oxnard. They wore civvies, though Graham had jokingly grumbled that the 'Don't ask; don't tell' policy had been set up just to keep him from scoring. Everyone knew a man in uniform got more action. Riley drove, Forrest napped, and Graham played with the radio. Three hours of country music and snoring later, they pulled up in front of their hotel.

"So," Forrest said, looking around the lobby, "What's the plan?"

"We've got a heavy schedule to get through," Graham answered with a straight face. "Riley's going to change his clothes, we'll have dinner, and then we'll go watch the pretty men take their clothes off."

Riley looked down at his clothes. He wore a blue chambray shirt and comfortable jeans, neither of which were stained or torn. "What's wrong with my clothes?" he demanded.

"You look like a farm boy. Just change. For me." Riley shot his friend a death glare, but went to his room and changed. He muttered the entire time about perfectly acceptable clothes and friends who suddenly thought they were fashion experts just because they were gay. Still, this was Graham's party, and he could play fashion police if he wanted. Despite his pouting, Riley changed and rejoined his friends in the lobby wearing a v-neck shirt in a dark grey knit and slim fitting khakis. He did a sarcastic little twirl in front of them and got a smile from Forrest and a thumbs up from Graham.

"Just for that, I get to pick the restaurant," Riley said. He considered choosing something the other two would hate, but reconsidered. It wouldn't be much of a celebration if they spent the night listening to Forrest whine about eating sushi, after all. They wound up at a steakhouse. Riley enjoyed watching his friends at dinner that night. Graham, usually so good at presenting the facade of a stern soldier, was practically bubbling with happiness. Forrest, on the other hand, was trying hard to appear blasé about the looming strip club visit. Riley knew Forrest accepted Graham's sexuality; he was just leery of _participating_ in it.

When they finally walked into the Fabulous Ladies Night Club, it was almost anticlimactic. Riley wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it probably included more sleaze. This club was clean and dim, with neon lights set into the ceiling, casting a soft pink and orange glow over the darkened space. A runway stage was bordered by tall stools, and small tables were scattered across the floor. A bar ran along the entire length of one wall. It wasn't overly crowded, but there were people (both men and women) sitting, mingling, and ordering at the bar.

Riley looked at Forrest for his reaction and got a shrug. "Where do you want to sit?" the dark man asked. Riley would have headed for a hidden table in the corner, but Graham steered them to three empty seats right at the stage. He left Riley and Forrest perched on their stools, and returned a few minutes later bearing alcohol. He passed each of them a beer and settled a pitcher between them. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he slid a stack of one dollar bills in front of each man.

Forrest raised an eyebrow. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked incredulously, waving the money in Graham's face.

The big man slapped the bills away. "I thought you were familiar with the concept of a strip club," Graham replied with a tiny, mocking smile.

"I am, but there is no way I'm sticking money in some guy's G-string." Forrest looked scandalized by the very idea.

"Wuss!" Riley accused. He made sure he was out of punching range when he said it. Forrest gave Riley a scorching look of disgust, but any other response was cut short by the change in the atmosphere. The lights dimmed and music started. Forrest subsided onto his stool and waited to see what happened.

The first act came on stage, and it was the stereotypical male stripper thing. A tall, heavily muscled man slowly discarded a parody of a fireman's uniform to the sound of pulsing music. He danced near their section of the stage early in his act and Forrest smiled in triumph. He leaned forward and droppped his stack of ones into the boot of the still mostly clothed stripper. He leaned back on his stool with a smug little grin.

Riley glanced over at Graham to see if he was enjoying himself. To his surprise, his large friend looked entertained but not remotely attracted. When Graham caught him looking, Riley raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Not my type," Graham said, leaning closer to be heard over the music. "I'm not into the big, musclebound guys." He glanced ironically down at his own physique. "I guess opposites attract."

The fireman left the stage to loud, appreciative yells from many patrons and polite applause from the three friends. They watched the runway, waiting to see what the next act would be like. The stage went dark, and when they lights came back up, they revealed a compactly muscled man in tight black leather holding a long whip. He wore his long blond hair tied back until the end, when he released it to pose, sweaty and nearly naked, with the whip wrapped taut around his body.

Riley checked Graham's reaction again and realized that his friend hadn't been kidding about having a type. He was flushed, and his usually pale eyes were nearly black with arousal. Graham slipped several bills into the dancer's G-string, along with a note that had his room number written on it.

Riley tried and failed not to be bothered about that. It wasn't the idea of hooking up with a stripper that repelled him. It was the thought of planning out a one night stand, knowing it was just for sex. It struck him as cold and unappealing. Internally, he laughed at himself. He couldn't imagine trying to explain to his friends that he wanted a connection just as much as he wanted the pleasure of sex.

The third and final act of the set began while Riley was staring at his drink and contemplating his inner mushiness. He looked up, and his breath caught. The current dancer didn't seem to have a gimmick like the fireman and leather guy. He wore a battered old bomber jacket over a plain white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. His feet were bare, which struck Riley as innocent and intimate. He'd been dancing with his head down, and just as Riley looked up at the stage, he raised his head and dropped the jacket from his shoulders.

Riley stared.

He was beautiful. Somehow appearing shy while stripping before strangers, the man had shaggy dark hair and a hint of a crooked smile. His eyes were dark as well, set beneath heavy brows. The man started teasing the t-shirt up, revealing slivers of golden skin. Riley didn't think he'd ever been this hard from seeing this little flesh. He found himself tensing in anticipation for the shirt to be gone altogether. When it was, he wasn't disappointed. The stripper had broad shoulders and strong, smooth muscles. Riley licked his lips and suddenly understood what Graham had been going through with the last dancer.

The jeans were unbuttoned and Riley's mouth went dry. The dancer had his back to the three soldiers, and Riley couldn't pull his eyes from the curves and plains of the man's back. With a sharp jerk, the jeans came apart at the seams, and Riley was staring at the brunette's naked and fairly stunning ass. Riley gulped down the rest of his beer. Watching the smooth, rounded flesh before him flex and bend, the tall blonde man had to wonder why he'd never before noticed how erotic a man's ass could be.

The dancer spun around and let his movements take him along the runway. Riley didn't even remember grabbing the bills in front of him, but suddenly his hand was in the air, calling the stripper closer to him. He slid them under the strap of the dancer's red G-string, skating a thumb over the soft skin of a tanned hip. He shuddered. He pulled his hand back and forced his eyes away from the pouch of that G-string and its contents. Looking up into the dancer's face, Riley was surprised to see a bashful smile of thanks in place of the greedy or dismissive look he'd been expecting.

The dark haired dancer moved on, and Riley tried to pull himself together. He reached for the pitcher and found it empty. Without even asking, he snagged Forrest's beer and slammed it. Forrest started to protest, but thought better of it. Finishing off the beer, Riley stared hungrily at the dancer until the lights went down.

Riley buried his head in his hands rather than looking at his friends when the lights came back up. He couldn't even pretend to be nonchalant. His breath was coming in sharp pants, his face felt hot, and his cock was rock hard and trapped against his leg by his khakis. There was no way he could play this off. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and looked up into Graham's face. His friend's light blue eyes were amused, but his smile was sympathetic.

"Guess you've got a type, too," was all he said.

Forrest protested loudly. "Nuh uh! No way am I going to be the only straight guy _and_ the token black man. You guys are going to have to work something out. Maybe Riley can be gay on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, and Graham can take Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Sundays we'll eat nachos and watch sports and nobody gets to be gay."

Riley listened as Graham and Forrest jokingly negotiated a fair distribution of sexual preferences and race. He was too distracted to join in, but he managed to smile several times. He counted it a victory.

They made it back to their hotel. None of them were drunk, but they'd all had enough beers that they decided to call a cab. Closing the door to his room, Riley leaned against it wearily. He had never been so grateful not to have a roommate. He let his head thump and roll on the heavy grey door and closed his eye. He opened them again with a groan. Every time his eyes shut, his brain went into an instant replay of the dark haired stripper. Well, he was finally alone, so Riley decided to let his brain have its way. He shed his clothes in the way to the bathroom, sighing his relief when he was finally free of the khakis that had been punishing him.

Stepping into the shower, Riley turned the water on and let it pound across his neck and shoulders. He tipped his head back, closed his eyes, and let the memory play through his mind. On the stage in his head, the old bomber jacket hit the floor. Riley leaned his arm against the shower wall and cushioned his forehead against it. The t-shirt rode higher on the tanned stomach and Riley forced himself not to grab his stiff cock. Not yet. The t-shirt was gone. He couldn't wait anymore, just _had_ to touch himself when he recalled the way the stripper's neck had arched as he moved. The way his flat brown nipples had tightened under Riley's gaze. He kept his hand slow and his strokes smooth as the dancer turned. That lasted until the jeans came off, and the Riley started fisting his cock fast and hard. He was so close. He rose up on his toes, pressing his forehead harder against his arm. In his mind, he touched soft golden skin and big dark eyes smiled down at him and he was lost. Gasping, Riley reached his limit and came hard, pulsing streams of come over his hand and onto the tiled wall.

He opened his eyes and stood there, breathing the steam-filled air in heavily. Once he'd recovered enough to walk straight, Riley turned off the water and got out of the shower. He smiled ironically at his blurred reflection. Only he could go to a coming out party and learn the he was in his own closet. One good thing came of it, though. At least now Forrest wouldn't have to plan a separate celebration for Riley.


	2. Twice is Coincidence

Intro to Psych was finally over and Riley sighed with relief as the last of the students left. He rolled his head on his shoulders in an attempt to release the tension in his neck. He tried to make the best of it, but he really hated TAing for that class. It wasn't just the material, although listening to the same lectures he'd sat through last semester was excruciatingly boring. No, Riley's real problem with the class was Parker Abrams.

He hated the man. Riley had seen him around campus last year, seducing young women and leaving them hurt, then bragging about his conquests to his friends. It disgusted him and always had. This year, the disgust was tainted with a new exasperation. Because Riley Finn suddenly found Parker attractive. Ugh! Ever since Graham's coming out party this summer, Riley found himself noticing certain men, especially ones who resembled the stripper who'd started it all. Parker was definitely Riley's type. Tall, with a strong, lean frame and brown hair. Worse, Parker had beautiful eyes and an easy smile. If only he weren't a total ass, Riley could have happily fantasized about him all through class. Instead, Riley's newfound attraction only made him more angry at the feckless jerk.

Forcing irritated thoughts about Parker out of his head, Riley bent over his desk to start gathering his books and papers together. An uncertain step behind him made Riley turn around. He found himself staring at a man who made him forget all about Parker Abrams. And pretty much everyone else. He might not have been a runway model, but this man came close to summing up Riley's personal masculine ideal. He swallowed hard. A niggling memory tugged at Riley's mind, although he was sure they'd never met before.

"Um, hi," the man said with a crooked little smile. "Is this Intro to Psychology with Dr. Walsh?"

"It was," Riley answered. He was surprised he had breath to speak. "Class is over. I hope you're not enrolled." Because TAs shouldn't really date their students.

"Whoa!" the man said, his thick eyebrows flying up. "You guys take freshman hazing seriously at this school."

Riley winced at his own clumsiness. "That's not what I meant. I just..." He fumbled for an explanation, "Professor Walsh has a really strict attendance policy, and I would hate for you to fail or be dis-enrolled for missing the first few classes."

The other man relaxed. Spreading his arms and hands in an expansive gesture, he said, "Well, then you're in luck. I'm not even a student, so she couldn't flunk me if she tried. I was actually just looking for some friends of mine. Willow Rosenberg, Buffy Summers, and Oz - Daniel Osbourne. They're all in this section, right?"

Even if he hadn't been in Special Ops, he'd had student safety drummed into him by the university. He knew not to give out information about his students' schedules. "I couldn't say," he replied evasively. He waved his hands, indicating the empty classroom. "But all of the students scattered as soon as Professor Walsh released them."

"You make it sound like prison," the man snickered. Riley noticed that his eyes crinkled up when he laughed. It was nice.

He should have just let this guy leave, but Riley wanted to keep those warm brown eyes on him. He said the first thing that came to his mind. "You could call their rooms."

"Nah. I already tried. I got voicemail for Buffy and Willow, and I left a message for Oz with Devon ... who was so hungover he probably couldn't even see to write it down." His shoulders slumped and his face took on a downcast expression. Riley wanted to erase that look, but he couldn't think of anything helpful to do or say.

"Is it an emergency?" Riley asked, grasping at straws. Inwardly, he cringed. He'd never been a brilliant conversationalist, but this was terrible. He sounded about as interesting as cardboard.

"Just the lunch kind of emergency that comes up every day." The grin was back, even if the light in those dark eyes was still diminished. "I just wanted to check in. Buffy was having some trouble adjusting, and I thought I could interrogate her about it over pizza."

"I'm sorry," Riley offered.

"Don't worry about it. I've survived worse things than lunch alone. Do me a favor?" the man asked. "Next time you see them, would you let them know I came by? Just in case they don't check their messages."

"Sure!" Riley would have agreed to a great deal more than that. "Who should I say came by?" He mentally patted himself on the back for managing to finally ask the guy's name.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I lost all my manners in a poker game. I'm Xander Harris." Xander held out a long fingered hand. Riley took it, pretending he wasn't tingly and excited just from touching his hand.

"Riley Finn." He forced himself to let go of Xander's hand before it became creepy.

"It was nice to meet you, Riley." Xander seemed to have a vast lexicon of different smiles. This one was softer and shyer than his previous grins. It was oddly familiar, and it made Riley's stomach flip over.

"Yeah," Riley said as Xander left. "Nice to meet you, too." He turned back to his desk to finish gathering his things. Suddenly he couldn't wait for Intro to Psych to meet again. It would give him an opportunity to find out more about Xander Harris. He went to report for duty with a dreamy smile on his face.

***

When the class filed in two days later, Riley scoped out his targets. They had arrived early and were all sitting together. He remembered the girls from the bookstore, where Willow had impressed him with her enthusiasm and knowledge and Buffy had knocked a book on his head. He hadn't paid much attention to Daniel Osbourne, other than to think it was a shame the man was so clearly in love with Willow. He was totally Graham's type.

Riley put on his best inoffensive smile and approached the little group. "There was someone here looking for you three after class the other day," Riley said. He watched the three freshmen freeze and wondered if his instincts about Xander had been wrong. God, he hoped not. He didn't want to be attracted to another jerk. "He said his name was Xander Harris," he offered. He gave a purely internal sigh of relief when they all relaxed at the sound of the visitor's name.

Buffy looked concerned. "Did he say why he came? Was he in trouble?"

"No, nothing like that. He said he just wanted to get some lunch and see how you were all adjusting." Actually, he'd only mentioned how Buffy was adjusting, but Riley had _some_ tact. "He said left messages for you, but he didn't know if you'd get them."

Oz raised an eyebrow. "Devon left a note about something, but the only thing I could make out was an 'X.' Knowing Dev, I kinda thought it was about porn."

Buffy smiled at that, but Willow clutched her notebook anxiously and said, "God, I'm such a bad friend. I didn't see him all summer while he was gone, and now that he's back I've hardly made any time for him and I didn't check my messages." She turned worried green eyes on Riley. "Does that make me a bad friend?"

"Yes," Riley said. "From a psychological point of view, it does." Seeing her stricken look, he relented almost immediately. "I'm kidding. Meet him for lunch sometime and I'm sure everything will be fine. Anyway, it's not the end of the world. I'm sure he can hang out with his girlfriend while you all adjust to college, right?" He was now shamelessly fishing for information. He only hoped it sounded more subtle to them than it did to him.

The three friends exchanged uncomfortable glances. "Not so much. He and Cordelia broke up months ago. Plus, I think she moved, so no opportunities for hanging out there." They stared at each other in awkward silence.

Buffy sighed and slumped down in her chair. "We need a better outreach program. All our recruits leave." Her hazel eyes took on a forlorn cast.

"No, no!" Willow hastened to comfort her. "Not everyone leaves. Oz hasn't left."

The small man nodded. "Notice my physical presence."

"And Xander could hang out with ... with Giles!" Willow said, as though suddenly inspired.

Buffy groaned and let her head drop to her hands. "We've exiled Xander to Giles-land. You were right, Willow. We are sucky, bad friends. He's going to be stuck alphabetizing books about de- dogs. Dogs. And after you've snickered about Shitzus, there's no more fun to be had with that subject."

Riley wanted to ask who Giles was, but Professor Walsh came in and put an end to his information-gathering mission. He went to the front of the room to call roll. Riley schooled his face to an attentive expression as the lecture began, but his mind was on other things. As Professor Walsh talked on about Freud and Jung, Riley planned out schemes to get Oz, Buffy, and Willow to tell him more about Xander. He had to laugh at himself. He felt like he was fourteen again and trying to figure out how to make Amber Meyer like him back. The comparison cheered him a bit, actually. Amber Meyer had asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance that year. He wondered if Xander knew how to dance.

The end of class startled Riley back to awareness. He'd managed to daydream through the entire lecture. He hurriedly stood. Attempting to look like he was ushering the students from the room, Riley positioned himself near Buffy, Willow, and Oz and lurked unobtrusively. His stalker-like behavior paid off. He heard Xander's name and giggling almost immediately. "... still can't believe he could do that!" Willow was saying.

"I dunno, Wills," Buffy replied. "Remember when he was undercover on the swim team? He looked yummy in that red Speedo. Even I noticed."

Oz nodded his agreement. "I think Larry kept a picture of that in his locker."

Willow rolled her eyes. "I didn't mean he _physically_ couldn't do it. I meant ..." but her voice faded as she walked away, so Riley didn't get to hear what she meant. He might have trailed along behind them if he hadn't been rooted to the spot by the mental image of Xander in a Speedo. He barely managed to respond to Professor Walsh's polite goodbye. Standing alone in the deserted room, Riley jolted himself out of his frozen state and grabbed his things. It was suddenly imperative that Riley get somewhere private that had a lock.

There was a restroom a few halls over. Riley put his books on the shelf by the door and claimed a stall. His sensibilities flinched back from the idea of jacking off in a public restroom, but ... Xander in a Speedo. Riley didn't think he really had a choice. He made sure the stall door was locked and unzipped his pants. His cock was already hard and damp at the tip, and he gratefully pulled it free of his boxers. He closed his eyes and gave in to his fantasy.

Riley would be waiting by the side of the pool. Xander would climb up the ladder, water sheeting from his body and leaving him glistening. His hair would be slicked back from his face, making him look older, more dangerous. Riley slid a hand up under his shirt and tugged gently at a nipple as he pictured the dark haired man, drenched and covered only by a tiny red Speedo. In his fantasy, Riley would come closer and trace a hand down Xander's chest. He would notice the erection clearly outlined by the tight red fabric and stroke it teasingly. When the tip of Xander's cock pushed up to peek out at the waistband, Riley would help him by stripping the Speedo away.

Riley opened his eyes and looked down at his own hard, heavy erection. He wondered what Xander's cock looked like. Suddenly, without warning, he wondered what Xander's cock tasted like. He shivered. Riley had received blow jobs, but he'd never even considered giving one. Now he couldn't get the thought out of his mind. Still gripping his cock with his right hand, he swiped his left thumb over the head, coating it in a glaze of pre-come. Riley slowly slid the thumb into his mouth, pressing the pad down against his tongue. Sucking at it and tasting himself, Riley closed his eyes again and slipped back into his imagination.

Riley would slide to his knees in front of a now naked Xander. He would lick at the tip of Xander's cock, running his tongue all around it. He would press his tongue into the slit and hear Xander groan. Long fingers would bury themselves in Riley's hair, urging him on. He would take in more, bobbing his head. He would suck and lick and gently nibble until Xander came, calling Riley's name. The thought of hearing Xander cry his name as he climaxed, of the young man spilling into Riley's mouth pushed Riley over the edge. His orgasm was long and intense. He took a few minutes to recover, standing there weak kneed, with his thumb still in his mouth. He moved to clean himself up and found that he'd spattered the top of his pants and the hem of his shirt. Riley couldn't find it in himself to care. He would hold his books in front of the mess while he walked back to Lowell House to change.

Riley made up his mind there in the restroom while he was washing his hands. Stupid military policies weren't going to stop him. Next time he ran into Xander Harris, Riley was going to make a move. He smiled as he picked up his books. After his experience with Amber Meyer, Xander Harris didn't stand a chance.


	3. Three Times is Fate

There were many strange and uncomfortable duties associated with working undercover in a civilian population center on American soil. Killing and capturing Hostile Sub-Terrestrials was strange. Scary and strange. Lying to his parents about what he did was uncomfortable. But the duty that Riley found strangest and most consistently uncomfortable was mandatory recreation time. This consisted of scheduled periods of publicly behaving like the frat boy he pretended to be. Each unit was assigned mandatory rec at different times throughout the week. Some of the soldiers loved it. They thought it was the best part of being assigned to the Initiative Project. After all, how many duty stations required you to drink, fight, flirt, and act like a jerk? Riley had never liked it. He couldn't forget that the role he played _was_ a role.

Still, there wasn't much he could do about it. Orders were orders. Riley sighed as he pulled up in front of the Pub for this week's rec time. He looked at the cars and people out front, and didn't recognize any of them. That meant that neither Forrest nor Graham had arrived yet. Judging from the number of UC Sunnydale stickers on the cars, though, there were plenty of university students. That was just what he needed to make his night complete - a bar full of drunken undergrads. Hopefully he'd be out of here before the freshmen with fake IDs started throwing up in the parking lot. Plastering a completely fake affable smile on his face, Riley walked through the door.

It was just as bad inside as he'd feared. People in their late teens and early twenties surged around him. Riley resented them for making him feel old, with their blithe recklessness and blissful ignorance. He fought his way through the crowd and landed at the bar. Right in a pile of gum. Great. Groaning, Riley hoisted his foot up and balanced it on his other leg. He grabbed a napkin off the bar and absently ordered a beer while trying to dislodge the goo. He never ordered anything harder than beer during rec time, and even then he set a limit of three. He didn't want to get someone killed by being drunk on patrol later.

"Here you go. Riley, right?" Riley looked up at the bartender for the first time and saw a brown haired man with a welcoming smile. His blue eyes widened in surprise, and he jammed his thumb right into the gum on his shoe.

"Xander! Dammit!" Riley looked down at his shoe and up at the suddenly wary look on Xander's face. "I mean, 'Hi, Xander. How are you? I'm covered in gum.'" Riley held up his gum coated thumb as an explanation.

The cautious expression slipped off Xander's face to be replaced by rueful sympathy. "Hang on a sec."  
The man turned away briefly and returned with an ice cube. "It's supposed to get un-sticky if you freeze it. At least, that's what I was told when someone, who shall remain nameless, got gum in Willow's hair in second grade."

"Thanks." Riley took the ice and applied it to his gunky hand. "I'm sure it's some kind of payback for enforcing Professor Walsh's no gum policy."

"Yeah, I hear that gum karma can be a bitch," Xander said. Riley finished removing the mess from his hand and gave his shoe up as a lost cause. He was about to say something, anything to Xander when he was called away by a customer at the other end of the bar. "Be right back," Xander called over his shoulder.

Riley watched the other man work, and came to the conclusion that bartending was not Xander's true calling in life. Granted, he had a friendly bar-side manner and a surprisingly comprehensive knowledge of alcohol for so young a man, but those were offset by a poor memory for drink orders and a tendency to get flustered when customers yelled at him. Xander finished tending his customers and drifted back to Riley.

"I think half of these people are insane," the younger man said. "I'm glad you came; it's good to see a friendly face." He started mopping at the counter with a cloth. The bar wasn't especially dirty there, but Riley figured it gave Xander an excuse to stand there without looking like he was loitering.

"Your friends aren't coming by?" Riley asked, looking around as though two bubbly girls and a small, quiet man were going to pop out of the woodwork.

"Nope. Willow and Oz are being couple-y tonight, and Buffy is recovering from a traumatic hit-and-run romance."

Riley recognized the perfect opening to weasel information out of Xander. "What about Giles? Willow mentioned that he was a friend."

"Giles? In a place like this?" Xander burst out laughing. It was a good sound, and Riley planned to encourage it as much as possible. "Hell, no! This is an American excuse for a pub, with its bloody awful music and crowd of hooligans. God, he'd probably polish a hole in his glasses." Xander caught a look at Riley's face and realized he wasn't sharing the joke. "Giles was our high school librarian, and even though he hangs out with us, he's really not creepy. But he is middle aged and very British. He'd hate it here. So, no. Nobody's coming to lend moral support for my first night on the job."

"It's your first night?" Riley asked, with an appalled look at the swarm of customers coming in the door. "Poor you. Don't worry, I'll be your moral support." He wanted to reach across the bar and take Xander's hand, but he restrained himself by clutching his bottle tight.

Xander's eyes went soft and took on a shy, grateful expression that tugged at Riley's memory. "Thanks, man. That's kinda ... awesome." Riley basked in that look for a moment, soaking up the warmth of Xander's smile. Of course, with the influx of customers, a moment was all he got before the bartender was swept away to fill their orders. For the next hour, Riley sat contentedly on his bar stool, nursing his beer and living for the lulls when Xander made his way back to him. It was the best time Riley had ever had during mandatory rec.

Xander and Riley got along amazingly well for people with so little in common. Riley was an overeducated soldier from the Heartland, while Xander was an underachieving California boy. The differences didn't seem to matter much as they talked. Granted, their conversations didn't stray far from discussions of food, movies, and music, with occasional forays onto mocking the bar patrons. But still, Riley felt more comfortable with Xander than he did with most civilians. For one thing, he was really funny, and he seemed to appreciate Riley's own sense of humor.

Xander had just come back from filling an order for a drink with a bizarre name. Riley hadn't even heard of it before, but Xander had known what went in it. "Are you sure this is your first night as a bartender? 'Cause I don't think the ingredients to a Scarlet Fever are common knowledge," Riley said. He twirled his mostly empty beer bottle on the counter. A completely empty one sat beside him.

"Do not question my knowledge, for it was learned at my father's knee," Xander replied. "Seriously, you can't grow up in my family and not know a little something about the booze. But this _is_ my first ever bartending shift." He paused, then said, with his eyes wide and innocent, "I'm a virgin."

Riley choked on the last swallow of his beer. "You did that on purpose!" he accused.

"Yup," Xander said with a smirk. He looked smug until he heard and order being called out. "No rest for the semi-wicked," he sighed, and turned away from Riley. Riley stared at him as he worked. Xander had been flirting with him. Yes!!! The realization sent a wave of exultation through him. Riley was sitting there with a fatuous smile on his face when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw Forrest. 

"Hey! You are so late, it no longer counts as late. I'm marking you absent for this drinking session." He took in the look on Forrest's face. "What? What's wrong?"

"I don't know what you're thinking, is what's wrong. You got all twitchy when Graham hooked up with that stripper when we were safely outta town, and then you track down your own. Here! What's going through your head, Riley?"

Now Riley was staring back at Forrest. "What? I came in for a drink and I ran into Xander. We were just ... what stripper?"

"Riley, take a good look at that boy. How did you not notice that he's the guy you were drooling over in Oxnard?" Now Forrest's irritated look had morphed into concern, as if Riley were being exceptionally slow and might need to be checked for a concussion.

"Xander?" Riley watched the man as he served drinks, stumbling once and mixing up two orders. "Are you sure?" He was beautiful, but he didn't act like a stripper. However strippers acted.

"One thing about being a straight guy watching male strippers: you spend a lot of time looking at their faces. It's definitely him," Forrest said. He seemed very sure. Riley stared at Xander, who was finishing up with his current customers. He'd been instantly attracted to the man, but he hadn't questioned it. His identity as friend of Riley's students had stopped Riley from considering that Xander might have another identity.

"Hi, friend of Riley's" Xander returned and nodded a greeting at Forrest. "Can I get you something?"

Riley was upset by that. How could Xander act like everything was normal when ... "You made me gay!" His voice was harsh, but fortunately not very loud. Out of the corner of his eye, Riley saw Forrest checking to be sure no one from the Initiative had heard him. He was glad his friend cared enough to keep an eye out for him, because Riley couldn't drag his attention from the man in front of him.

Xander held his hands out placatingly. "No. Much with the no. Beer might lower your inhibitions, but it does not make you gay."

"Not the beer! Last summer, in Oxnard. With the bomber jacket, and the red ... That was you!" Riley's voice was still accusing. He couldn't stop staring at Xander, trying to reconcile the sleek and sexy dancer he remembered with the friendly, funny townie he'd been getting to know.

"You saw that?" Xander squeaked. He sounded horrified. Groaning, he scrubbed his hands over his face. "I swear somebody in charge hates me. I dance for one night over a hundred miles away, and people from Sunnydale see me. How is that fair?"

"One night?" Forrest asked, sounding surprised. Riley could second that emotion. The man hadn't moved like an amateur on stage.

"Yeah. I mean, I was a dishwasher. I was supposed to be in the kitchen. But Seth called in and I got drafted."

"Well you looked," gorgeous, wonderful, edible, "good up there. Like you knew what you were doing," Riley reassured him.

"Really?" Xander's big brown eyes were bright with pleasure. "Some of the guys had been teaching me, so I knew the basics, but I felt like everyone was laughing at me."

"Nobody in our group was laughing," Forrest said. He seemed to have decided that Xander wasn't a threat at the moment. Or else he preferred mocking Riley over protecting him. "There might have been some moaning, though." Oh yeah, he'd chosen the mocking.

Xander blushed bright red. He looked at Riley hesitantly. "You ... really?"

Riley took a deep breath. "Really, really." He tensed as he waited to see how the bartender would respond.

"Is this the part where I tell you I get off work in three hours? Oooh, or I could write my phone number on a bar napkin," Xander suggested with a blinding smile. Riley felt all the tension flow out of his shoulders as he took in that smile. Of course, it flowed directly to another part of his body. He was so focused on the man in front of him that it took Riley a moment to notice the beeping that was coming from his pocket. It wasn't until he saw Forrest checking his pager that he knew what was going on.

"Crap," Riley said with feeling.

Forrest answered Xander's questioning look. "There's an emergency at Lowell House. We have to go."

Technically, Riley should have done as Forrest did, and started casually exiting the bar as soon as that pager went off. Instead, he took a minute to grab a napkin off the bar and scribble his name and phone number on it. He slid the napkin across the bar to Xander. Suddenly uncertain, he ducked his head. Ducking to avoid someone's eyes would probably work better if he weren't over six feet tall, so the brunette probably saw him blushing as he said, "Maybe you could, um, call me. If you feel like it." He risked a look and was caught in the intensity of Xander's eyes. Riley wanted nothing more than to drag the man across the bar and kiss him senseless.

But Riley Finn wasn't a soldier for nothing. It took all his training and sense of duty, but he turned and walked away. At the door, he looked back at the man behind the bar. Xander was staring down at the napkin with a bemused smile. He lifted his head and met Riley's gaze. With a little nod, the brown haired man tucked the napkin safely into his pocket. Riley went to report in with a light heart.

***

Riley looked at himself in the mirror and thought, not for the first time, that he was officially pathetic. He'd already changed his clothes three times, and he was considering making it four. He was an experienced soldier, trained to fight for his nation and to resist mental conditioning and torture, and all it took to turn him into a fourteen year old girl was a date with a cute guy. Riley sighed and resisted running his hands through his hair. Graham would never forgive him if he messed it up. For a man with a crew cut, Graham had been surprisingly adept with a blowdryer.

Graham and Forrest had both had a hand in getting Riley ready for this date. It was only fair, since Riley had been talking about little other than Xander for the past two weeks. That is, when he wasn't talking _to_ Xander. The brown haired man had finally called three days after they'd met up at the Pub. Riley had been on tenterhooks for those three days, alternately anticipating the call and fearing that it would never come. When the phone had finally rung, Riley had been sitting in his room with his two friends, tossing his mini-basketball through the hoop on his door and pretending he wasn't thinking about a certain bartender. The ring had pulled him out of his half-reclining position, and he'd shot straight up, staring at the phone like he'd never seen it before.

"You're going to answer that," Forrest said in a serious voice. "I won't be responsible for my actions if I have to listen to another day of you worrying about him calling." Graham, always chary with his words, had skipped the threats and simply picked up the phone and handed it to Riley.

Glaring at his so-called friends, Riley answered. "Hello," he said, his voice gruff to disguise his nervousness.

"Um, hi. Riley? This is Xander. From the bar and from being Buffy and Willow and Oz's friend. And from, apparently, taking all my clothes off in front of you and your friends."

The fact that Xander sounded just as nervous as Riley felt was a huge comfort. If that made him petty, so be it. Riley relaxed back onto the bed, cradling the phone. "Yeah, I remember you," he said. Had the people from Guinness been around, they would certainly have marked that down as the biggest understatement of the century. Forrest and Graham had left then, graciously hiding their smirks.

The stumbling, awkward conversation that followed probably should have irritated Riley. Instead, it left him with an absurd sense of accomplishment. This had been their first premeditated encounter; before, they had merely run into one another. A phone call, especially a long phone call that ended with regrets and promises, meant intent.

The next afternoon, Riley had been the one to call Xander. He had taken a deep breath and dialed the number, not even needing the proffered moral support of his friends. Two weeks later, the two of them had talked every day, often for hours at a time. Riley, who had never been much of a phone talker, was surprised at how comfortable he felt listening to Xander's voice. Their conversations were broad and varied; though Riley never discussed his night job, they talked about nearly everything else. They argued about the relevance of sports, commiserated about their workloads, mocked their friends and coworkers, and bantered about movies and music. Xander comforted Riley when he confessed to homesickness, and Riley bolstered Xander when he felt unimportant. And mixed into every topic and every conversation was a teasing hint of flirtation.

Forrest thought it was hilarious. He'd taken to making what he termed the 'Oh, Xander!' face whenever he heard Riley on the phone. It consisted of fluttering eyelashes, pouting lips, and a coyly tilted head. Riley vehemently denied ever donning such an expression, but his denial only made Forrest laugh harder. Riley usually just rolled his eyes in irritation and kept right on talking. It was ... liberating to conduct his courtship over the phone. He didn't have to worry about looking stupid or being caught staring and drooling. And when he felt insecure or inexperienced, he could count on Graham to stick his head through the door and give him an encouraging nod.

Riley would have considered recommending that everyone take up phone dating if it weren't for one thing. He wanted to touch Xander. He wanted to see Xander. Badly. He'd been dying to see more of Xander's body and to touch every inch of it practically since the first moment he saw him, but now it was different. He wanted to sit next to Xander and just feel that he was there. He wanted to see Xander's face when he laughed. Of course, Riley also still wanted to see him naked and fuck him senseless. He was only human.

Riley knew a lot more about gay sex than he had when he'd first stepped into that strip club in Oxnard. Graham had decided it was his sacred duty to see that Riley was well educated. To that end, he had smuggled a non-Initiative laptop into the House so that his friend could download porn and sex tips. It had been an eye opening experience. So eye opening that he had had to remind himself to blink while watching the first clip. And to breathe. While Riley, like most men, had always been aware of the basic theory behind man-on-man sex, this was the first time he'd ever seen it in practice. That laptop had gotten a lot of use.

After two weeks of phone calls, of teasing banter and drawn out, affectionate goodbyes, Riley had finally asked Xander to meet him. He'd considered phrasing it casually, as just a couple of friends getting together, but realistically he knew that wouldn't fly. He'd blurted out his attraction that first night at the bar, so there was no sense in trying to save face now. Especially since taking the risk offered a much better chance at a goodnight kiss. Or maybe a goodnight blow job. Gah! Shaking his head and adjusting his sudden erection, Riley had managed to ask Xander to have dinner with him.

Which was why Riley was staring at his sandy-haired, blue eyed reflection, considering changing his clothes, and wishing his face were a little more sexy and less friendly. Not that friendly was bad most of the time, but it wasn't the impression he was trying to convey tonight. The door to his room opened and two more faces joined his in the mirror.

"You look fine," Graham had said.

"Are you sure I shouldn't -" Riley made an abortive gesture at his closet.

"No!" Forrest said emphatically. "What you need to do is get the hell out of here before your boy thinks you stood him up." Riley raised his eyebrows questioningly and then had to cross his eyes to read the watch that was shoved in front of his nose.

"Oh, god, I'm going to be late." Riley spun and grabbed his jacket off the bed. He was in a rush until he got to the door. Then the hurry drained out of him as the nervousness flooded back in. He stood, staring at the closed door.

A brown hand reached out from behind him and grabbed the doorknob. "Listen, my best first date advice is: Get the kiss out of the way early. That way you don't spend all night worrying about it."

Riley looked at Forrest over his shoulder. "That works?"

"Oh, yeah." He had to believe that smug look. Riley opened his mouth to ask another question and found himself being propelled out the door that Forrest had just jerked open.

"But ..." he stammered, but they had shut the door behind him. With an aggrieved snort, Riley had finally left the House and headed off campus to pick up his date.

***

Riley dried his hands on his pants as he waited for his knock to be answered. He raised his fist to knock again, when the door opened to reveal a somewhat disheveled and very drunk woman who was probably Xander's mom. She blinked up at him in confusion, and Riley donned his most disarming smile.

"I'm here to pick up Xander," he said. His voice sounded obnoxiously overeager to his own ears, but Mrs. Harris didn't seem to notice. She just waved him vaguely toward the basement stairs and plopped down on the couch. Riley knocked on the door to the basement, uncomfortable with the idea of just walking on in. He did feel a little cheated, though. Having been brave enough to knock on the front door, he didn't feel that he deserved the stress of knocking and waiting a second time.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long. He heard the unmistakable thunder of feet bounding up the stairs, and then Xander was there. Big brown eyes and a wide, crooked grin greeted him, and Riley wondered how he'd gone so long without seeing them. "Hey!" Xander said, "Come on down and let me find my jacket so we can go."

Riley followed Xander down the stairs. He'd been warned, in fulsome detail, about how crappy the basement room was, but it still came as a surprise. Xander occupied such a large part of Riley's thoughts that it was difficult to imagine anyone willingly shunting him out of the way. Well, he'd just have to make sure the younger man knew he deserved better.

"I'm ready." Riley blinked, startled out of his contemplation of mildew and piles of laundry. Xander was standing at the foot of the stairs, holding a brown corduroy jacket and watching his guest expectantly. Against a background of dingy grey, he stood, beautiful even in a shapeless shirt and baggy cargo pants. Riley drank in the sight, not bothering to hide how attracted he was. Xander flushed under his scrutiny, and Riley thought that maybe he didn't have an un-sexy face after all. He stepped closer and decided to take Forrest's advice. He slid his hand behind Xander's neck and bent his head for a kiss.

Considering the sheer mass of fantasy that Riley had built up about Xander, it shouldn't have been possible to live up to his expectations. But somehow, this kiss didn't have to. It was a first kiss, and it was as sweet and nervous as first kisses often are. Riley closed his eyes and let himself enjoy it. Xander's mouth was warm and willing, and the minty taste of it made Riley smile against the kiss. The fact that Xander had brushed his teeth right before their date gave Riley the confidence to press for more. He slid his tongue deeper into Xander's mouth, then pulled back to lick at his full lower lip. He ran a hand down the other man's chest, stroking the firm muscles he knew were hidden under that hideous shirt.

Riley had been feeling an almost euphoric power as Xander submitted to his caresses. That all changed as Xander suddenly took charge of the kiss, turning them so that he could press Riley back against the wall. Everything shifted into a higher gear so quickly it left Riley lightheaded. Xander drew Riley's tongue into his mouth and sucked at it gently while grinding his hips up against Riley's body. Riley groaned at the sensation. Though he knew he was larger and better trained than Xander and could overpower him if he had to, he was enjoying the helpless anticipation of giving up control. It wasn't something he'd often donw with a woman, and he found himself loving it. Riley slid his hands down to cradle Xander's ass, pulling it up so that their erections met more closely. He lost himself in the heat and the hardness, the clandestine thrill of making out in Xander's parents' house, the newness of a male body pressed against him. And on top of all of it, the knowledge that Xander wanted him back lit Riley up with an intoxicated happiness.

He had been waiting to touch Xander for so long that he shouldn't have been shocked to feel his orgasm building, but he was. He couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to, though, and god did he _not_ want to. He moaned into Xander's mouth and pressed even closer, desperate for release even as he yearned for this to never end. He came with a shudder that shook not only his own frame but Xander's as well, they were wrapped so tightly around one another. Xander gasped and continued to thrust against his hip, and soon Riley felt the muscles in Xander's ass and lower back tensing as he found his own peak.

They'd been kissing the whole time, and as they came down from orgasm, the kisses slowed. Riley stroked Xander's back in languorous satisfaction and finally pulled his mouth away, letting his head loll against the wall. "Do you always do that on the first date? Right at the _start_ of a first date?" Xander asked, with a dreamy smile.

"Of course," Riley answered. "It's all part of the plan: woo you with my kisses, sweep you off you feet with my fancy dinner plans, convince you to loan me a clean pair of pants." With a chuckle, Xander stepped out of his arms and went to root around in his dresser.

"You're lucky I did laundry today," he said archly, handing Riley a pair of jeans, "because if it there was only one pair left, I would so be making you wear my old gym shorts." Snickering at that image, Xander grabbed a new pair of cargo pants for himself and retreated to the bathroom. Riley closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and sent up a wordless prayer that the rest of the date go this well. When he opened his eyes, the water stained ceiling reminded him to get dressed so they could get out of the basement.

***

Chopsticks were Riley's new favorite thing. He had never spent much time using them before, the Breadbasket of America not being famous for its Asian cuisine. But Xander insisted that they were the only possible utensil for lo mein and dumplings, and Riley had given in.

"Like this," Xander said, reaching across the table and arranging Riley's fingers on the thin wooden sticks. Riley had to fight down a delighted grin at finding an excuse to have Xander hold his hand in public. He followed Xander's detailed instructions, and soon he was clumsily chasing his food around on his plate with the chopsticks. "There was a Social Studies section on Chinese immigrants to California when we were in sixth grade, and Willow made Jesse and me eat with chopsticks for a week. You have not lived until you've eaten hot dogs and fries with chopsticks in a middle school cafeteria," the dark haired man said with grin.

"I guess I haven't lived, then," Riley said ruefully as a particularly tricky dumpling slipped out of his grasp. He looked across at his date and goggled at the sight of Xander, his eyes half closed in the pleasure of his food, cheeks hollowed as he sucked in a strand of noodle. Xander pulled the entire noodle into his mouth and licked at the end of the chopsticks to pick up the sauce. Riley managed not to groan. "It's good I have you to teach me these things," he said, earning a sweet smile in response.

Riley had chosen the restaurant fairly carefully. He had ruled out Italian because of the garlic and Mexican because of the aftereffects. When he discounted burgers and pizza as too unromantic, there hadn't been many possibilities other than Chinese remaining. He'd asked around and found a restaurant that was fairly nice but not overtly romantic. He was trying to at least nominally protect his career, after all.

The server brought them fortune cookies, and Riley snorted with laughter at Xander's gleeful expression as he claimed his. "Okay, the rules for fortune cookies are simple: You do not read the fortune out loud. If you get a boring fortune, you insert the words 'in bed' at the end of it." Xander tossed him a cookie and waited while he unwrapped it. "Ready?" Riley nodded and broke his cookie open. The slip of paper read, 'Good things will come to you if you are patient and flexible.' Mentally adding 'in bed,' Riley turned red and started snickering.

"Let me see," Xander demanded. He took the fortune and read it, then grinned wickedly. "We'll test that out some time," he said, handing the paper back. Riley slid it into his pocket, feeling stupidly, giddily happy. This had been one of the best dates he'd ever been on. The fact that the two men had gotten to know one another so well first had eased the way past the usual discomfort of first date conversation. The food had been good, the service friendly, and the company spectacular. Xander had a way of making everything seem fun and new.

A single chopstick waved in front of his face. "Psst!" Xander hissed. "Put this in your pocket."

"Why?" Riley asked. He was baffled, but that didn't stop him from obeying unthinkingly.

"Souvenir," Xander said impishly. He kept his voice low. "Of the best date I've ever been on. And, barring the gender thing, the most normal one, too."

"Oh, really," Riley said with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh huh. I'll tell you about my prom date sometime." And with that promise, Xander pocketed the other chopstick and bounced up out of his seat. "Wanna get some ice cream?" He asked, pulling his jacket from the back of his chair. "'Cause I don't know about you, but I consider fortune cookies to be entertainment, not dessert." Riley nodded his acceptance of the plan and followed Xander to the register. He craftily managed to pay for dinner, but Xander swore to pay for the ice cream as revenge.

The two men were walking back to Riley's car when a snarling Hostile launched itself at them from the shadows of a nearby doorway. Riley cursed and wondered if the thing could have tracked him by scent from one of the Initiative's raids earlier in the week. He reached for his tazer, trying to keep Xander covered. That goal would have been accomplished more easily if Xander had stopped trying to edge around Riley toward the attacking HST. Riley finally drew out his weapon and discharged it at the creature, but that didn't stop the attack. He found himself knocked to the ground, staring into the yellow eyes and ridged face of the HST. And then, in a swirl of dust, he was staring at Xander's face instead.

Xander was still poised for a fight, holding his lone chopstick protectively in his right hand. He was breathing hard and his face was pale, but he managed to give Riley a smile. "Okay," Xander said, "Now it's more like my usual kind of date." Riley took a deep breath and opened his mouth to demand to know what that meant when Graham trotted up in full night op gear.

"Riley, are you okay? We got a report of an HST headed in this direction." Riley pulled Graham aside for a quick debrief, then they both turned back to Xander. The dark haired man had been watching the soldiers with an expression of wary amusement.

"So," he said, "I guess you're not going to buy the usual excuse of muggers on PCP, huh?" Riley shook his head, struggling to process what had just happened. Xander knew about the HSTs, and he knew how to fight them. He also now knew that Riley and Graham were in a military group that was concerned with the Hostiles. Suddenly Riley broke out into a huge smile. He didn't have a choice. He was going to have to bring Xander in for an exchange of information. That meant Riley was going to get what he'd always wanted: a relationship in which he didn't have to lie to his partner.

And when Professor Walsh asked how Xander had found out about the Initiative, Riley would be able to answer truthfully. It was fate.


End file.
